


Intrigue and Other Words the Public Don't Use

by supergeekytoon



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Cold War, Ethan Has Magic Powers on this, M/M, Magical Benthan AU set in the 60's, Mentions of homophobia, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Character Death, mentions of catholicism, past mentions of Ethan/Jack, set in the 60's
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2020-04-05 21:46:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19049062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supergeekytoon/pseuds/supergeekytoon
Summary: Ethan's familiar was assigned to him by the CIA. Benjamin Dunn, a graduate of Oxford, young, timid and incredibly well mannered.But not is all as it seems when they both begin working together.Conspiracy during the Cold War is a dangerous thing, especially in statecraft.What lies beneath the facade of Benji's powers? And what has the powers that be planned?





	1. Start from the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Demigoat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demigoat/gifts).



> Inspired by and based on a joke between myself and @Demigoat that got way out of hand way too quickly.

December 1963, Washington D.C

 

It was long past the time that any reasonable human being would have been asleep, but the clock was ticking for Ethan Hunt. The love of his life was out there somewhere needing to be rescued. If he wasn’t already dead at least. Ethan forced the thought aside; it wouldn’t be productive to linger on Benji being harmed. It would only distract him, he needed to focus. Ethan hadn’t slept in what felt like days. He had been searching for answers. Magic, energy, CIA black sites, the sudden spike in missing person’s cases. It was all connected somehow. He couldn’t be paranoid, all evidence pointed to a conspiracy. Ethan was wide awake, the rain continuing to pour down. Frantically he scribbled notes on the blackboard.

 

“There’s got to be a way to get back to him.”

 

It had been about three days since he last saw Benji, safe and alive. Ethan had been staring at the blackboard so long the letters were getting jumbled in his head, and it began losing all meaning. Luther was knee deep in classified files, hoping there would be something, anything to lead them to find Benji and getting him out alive.

 

 

“Ethan, you need to sleep.”

“Benji’s not sleeping now, And I won’t either until we find him, Luther.”

 

The apartment was a mess, paper coffee cups were strewn about the floor. The ashtray had several cigarette butts, all cold and forgotten. The only thing that had any semblance of order was the evening paper. It was folded neatly on the table to be read later if there was time for it anyway.

 

There was a sudden knock at the door as both occupants grew quiet. Was it the CIA? Had they caught on to the both of them? It certainly wouldn’t be anyone else given the time of night it was. Luther neatly ordered the files and began to hide them, keeping his pistol at the ready.

Ethan drew his pistol as he checked the peephole of the door. A shadowy figure in a trench coat and fedora stood out in the rain. Carefully he opened the door, a man, most likely an intelligence man.

 

“We have much to discuss Mr. Hunt. I’m told you know a fair about magic.”

Ethan peered the man’s face, had they met before? He didn’t look familiar, but he didn’t seem that much of a threat.

 

“And who the hell are you?”

 

“William Brandt, CIA Analyst. Shall we start from the beginning?”

 

October 1962, Washington D.C.

 

After the second world war ended, it seemed that the American public was generally happy. But the government, on the other hand, had other concerns other than those of the stereotypical nuclear family. The looming threat of anything “red” stirred fear into the public and most famously stirred the McCarthy hearings into action. The big fucking joke that it was, it displayed how easily power and fear can be utilized for the benefit of the government.

 

Nonconformity was a condemnation, a death sentence. 

 

In the aftermath of what would be known as the Cuban Missile Crisis, the CIA became acutely aware of the high tensions brewing between the first and second world. They needed something to give them an edge, in case the war stopped being cold. They needed a way to secure victory. Only as a precaution of course.

And so, the CIA began to dabble into magic, research into the studies of the occult. Perhaps there would be a way to find supernatural beings willing to work for their side. Such people had been found, hiding in the everyday corners of life. Their powers were strange but controlled. With the proper training they could be valuable assets to western interest.

So, the Impossible Missions Force was formed. It was an organization that didn’t exist in any official document from the United States government. No, it was the secret weapon of the CIA, used to execute any missions that cannot be performed through "official" channels. As well as this, there were several agents who were able to perform magic, adding to their effectiveness in tradecraft.

 

Nonconformity was a tool, to further the interest of the west.

But, oh how the times they are a-changing indeed.

 

 

January 7th, 1963, Washington DC.

 

Ethan Hunt was one such individual. From a young age he showed an unnatural strength and endurance, superhuman almost. As it turned out he was able to manipulate energy and the world around him for protection. Magic was not exactly a science but more of an art. The CIA saw these skills within him and assigned him to the IMF, where he quickly became one of their best agents.

However, he couldn’t keep going at it alone. He may have been a magician, but he was still human. He was in search of a familiar, someone who would be able to help him with his magic ability.

He’d put in the request, assuming he would not be taken seriously. But a few days afterward he was called into Musgrave’s office, his handler. Musgrave handed him a file, a black and white photograph of the profile of a younger looking man.

 

“His name is Benjamin Dunn. The CIA heard you wanted a familiar, he’s being transferred in today.”

Musgrave sat at his desk, “I heard he’s quite intelligent, went to Oxford. Grew up in England.”

 

As Ethan sat down, he inspected the file more thoroughly.

“That’s all good, but is he prepared for field work?”

 

“Should be, the CIA wouldn’t send in someone who wasn’t. He’s being personally assigned to you he's not just a new agent. Play nice with him, Ethan. We really don’t need another incident.”

 

Ethan looked up at Musgraves “Incident?”

 

“Yeah, like the one with Agent Harmon.”

 

Ethan looked back down at the file, “Right, Jack.”

His voice went cold, running his fingers idly on the page. He’d never want to repeat that. He shook himself of the thought. Whoever this Benjamin Dunn was, he wouldn’t make the same mistakes with him as he made with Jack. But for now, all he needed to worry about was the stack of paperwork on his desk and await his familiar. 

After all, every magician needed one. 


	2. Journalistic Incidents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack was more than an "incident." But he'd never say it out loud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks For all the wonderful comments! Y'all really push me forward to write more and I'm very appreciative. I'll try to be as historically accurate as possible with world event's, but some slip-ups may occur.

January 7th 1963, Washington D.C. 

 

“We don’t really need another incident.” 

 

Ethan hated that word, incident. It made it feel like what happened with Jack to be trivial. It’s the CIA, it’s statecraft. People are going to die, Ethan knew that. But it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt any less. Incident was an ugly word; it just swept the end of someone’s life under the rug. Perhaps that’s how Musgrave saw it, just a mission that went wrong that they’d rather forget. Nothing more nothing less. Musgrave seemed to roll off emotion, like water on Teflon. Ethan understood why Musgrave acted that way. He had a job to do and he’s been at it so long that death was just another occupational hazard. Ethan may have understood it, but it didn’t make him any less bitter.

 

“A person’s death isn’t an ‘ _ _incident’.”__ Ethan muttered under his breath as he worked away at his desk. Agent Jack Harmon. If only Musgrave knew the emotions he set off at the mention of his name. It’s not as if he knew what had been going on between both of them. And Ethan would never dare talk about such a taboo subject. He’d be fired, his life in ruin. But without Jack with him, that’s what it felt like already. It was cold and dark, much like the days in winter.

 

Ethan was apprehensive about having a new partner in the field. He needed help, but it unsettled him. A familiar was necessary for difficult magic and ever since Jack’s death, magic has been more difficult to perform. Someone who was new, detached even, would certainly help Ethan get back into his stride. If only he would show up. It occurred to him that Musgrave never actually said what time Benjamin was arriving. He really needed to learn to ask more questions.

 

The initial meeting between Benjamin and Ethan had occurred far later in the day than Ethan had anticipated, around three in the afternoon. He was able to review his hastily typed up reports and correct any spelling errors, but he still needed them to be filed away correctly and duplicates to be made. When Ethan was recruited to begin working in the intelligence community, he hadn’t realized how much writing was actually involved with the process. It was the one thing he hated the most about his work. He didn’t have the patience for such dull tasks. Even if he did, he was out in the field so often that he never had time to complete them. Which was why there was always clutter in his office.

If they needed to buy some black-market uranium, he would be sent. If they needed a point man to infiltrate the Soviet Embassy in England, he would be sent. Basically, if it was dangerous and could kill normal humans, he was sent. He didn’t have much time for anything other than field work, which didn’t bother him. Not really.

 

Well, not anymore.

 

So, when Ethan had heard a lilted voice speak to him offering to xerox his reports, he took the opportunity without thinking who was offering.

“Would you like me to xerox those papers, sir?”

 

He was after all grateful for any help and he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. But then it occurred to him that, someone was in fact in his office, actually talking to him, in real time, face to face.

 

“I’m sorry actually, say again?” he said, looking up to see the same man from the file Musgrave handed to him, his familiar.

 

For his part, Benjamin had seemed bushy tailed and bright eyed. The younger man had a pudgier frame than most field agents he knew, but that wasn’t all that important. As long as he could run at a decent pace and perform magic decently then they would have no problems. His thick black-rimmed glasses as well gave the impression of severe near sidedness, probably due to eye strain. He looked polished and was very articulate and polite. With a firm handshake and a gleaming smile, he introduced himself.

 

“Benjamin Dunn sir, at your service. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

 

“Ethan Hunt, nice to meet you too.”

 

“Anyway, as I understand it, sir, it’s policy to make duplicates of each report. If you are finished with those, I would happily do xerox them for you.” He pointed to the stack on the left-hand side of his desk.

 

Ethan was surprised at his level of professional courtesy. Every Time Benjamin had addressed him had either started or ended with a ‘sir’; it had taken him back. Not to say that his colleagues were at all unprofessional or rude, (for the most part), but this man had seemed sincere in his courteous attitude and had a cheerful disposition. Youth were afforded such energy, but he can’t have been much younger than Ethan. Perhaps a few years, but nothing significant.

 

“I guess if you’d like to do that, then go ahead.”

 

“Right, it’s 2 copies per report, correct?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I’ll be right on it, sir.”

 

It felt like Benjamin was acting more like a personal assistant rather than a familiar, not that Ethan would complain about it. It wasn’t even really a complaint, it just struck him as unusual. Maybe that’s what familiars did. In the modern age, the way they served may have differed. But there was something else that struck him as odd. 

When magicians made physical contact with other people, they could feel the energy they emanated. Most non magicians, emanated very little to no energy. Whereas other magicians had a palpable source of energy that could be used to manipulate the reality around them. There was something off about Benjamin’s magical aura. He couldn’t quite make out what it was. He chalked that up to differences in geography, after all, Benji presumably grew up in England, maybe it was just something in the water so to speak. Ethan’s probably felt unnatural to him too and so he didn’t dwell too much on it.

 

It was late in the evening, about 6 o’clock or so, when Ethan had managed to finish. Benjamin was still there as well, organizing the files in their correct place. He worked silently and diligently, occasionally asking questions about certain procedures. He was helpful but quiet. Ethan was grateful for the silence; he was not in much of mood for small talk most of the day. However, he knew it would be best to begin getting to know Benjamin a little better. He seemed a friendly sort of man, and it would be a shame to ignore him on his first day.

 

“You smoke?” Ethan said, grabbing his coat and hat, reaching inside his coat pocket for his cigarettes. 

 

“Not that big of a smoker, sir.”

 

Ethan shrugged as if reassuring him his refusal wasn’t taken personally. There wasn’t a need for it. After it was just a cigarette. It’s not as if he was asking the man out to dinner. The first few days in a working relationship were always awkward, and it had been a while to work with someone else directly. He just wanted things to go well. 

 

“That’s Alright. It’s time to head home I suppose.”

 

“Right, of course, mind if join you on your way down? I sort of get lost in this building.” Benji said, sheepish at the admission

 

Ethan smiled, sympathetic to his first-day nerves. He remembered being like that the first few days working in the IMF. Unsure of where everything was, asking questions.

 

“Fine by me.”

 

It seemed they were heading off on a good start. Some awkward pauses, but that was to be expected. They made their way to the elevator, the fluorescent lights casting its harsh glow.

 

“So, what did you do before If you don’t mind me asking?” Ethan was curious, feeling bad that he hadn’t been able to speak with his familiar.

 

Benji shifted the weight of his legs, reaching in his coat pocket for his wallet. Inside was a card with his photograph on it: a press card.

 

“I was a journalist back in England sir.”

 

“Write anything good?” 

 

“Oh, you know the standard stuff. Stories about Algeria, Vietnam, Cuba.” There was a pause, Benjamin had gotten quiet abruptly. “Lots of wars basically.”

 

“Yeah, lots of those now.” Ethan said, grimacing as he inhaled the smoke from his cigarette.

 

As they arrived in the lobby they said their goodbyes. They headed in opposite directions when they reached the street. Benjamin had hailed a cabbed. Ethan preferred to walk. Even in the cold of the winter, it was nice to head out and stretch his legs. As he went home his mind wandered from topic to topic. The presidential primaries would begin soon, and it seemed that Kennedy was dead set on reelection, something many of the CIA men discussed when they thought no one is listening.

 

Someone was always listening.

 

Something stuck out to him however, Benjamin hadn’t mentioned any military experience, and any work in tradecraft, only his time as a war correspondent. It didn’t sit right with Ethan. How and why would a war correspondent be working for the CIA? Musgrave had said he was being transferred in, so it meant he had spent some time with the CIA prior to working with the IMF. Perhaps that’s what his cover was? But that wouldn’t have made sense if he stopped being one when he arrived in Washington.

 

He was thinking too much about it. He was doing that about everything lately. If Jack were there, he’d laugh and say, “Ethan you need to sit down, shut up and grab a drink.” Ethan smiled at the memory. He was back to thinking about Jack again. He missed Jack a little more each day. The way he joked, his laugh, his smile. The warmth of his hands, the way his arms wrapped around him for hugs. Tight and full of affection.

As he went home, thought back to their first nights together in Korea. Their first time working an IMF mission. The way his eyes looked in his final moments, full of fear but somehow at peace.

He prepared himself a scotch and read over the evening paper, trying to brush past the thoughts in his mind. Maybe that’s why he never stopped thinking about things that didn’t concern him. Why he eavesdropped on conversations, why he wondered too deeply into the rather innocuous. He needed something to keep him busy. Something to keep him from dwelling on Jack.

 

“A journalist. Why a journalist?” He spoke aloud to himself. Was Benjamin happy as a journalist? Was he happy working with the CIA beforehand?

Ethan certainly wasn’t. 


	3. Appearances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benji reflects on his life before Washington.  
> Ethan learns more about Benjamin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all your encouragement! All of your kind words really help me going!  
> The first half of this chapter is from Benji's perspective while the second half returns to Ethan's. I tried to make that as obvious as I could, but in case it wasn't clear enough, well now you know. 
> 
>  
> 
> As always, if want to Follow Me on Tumblr - it's Supergeekytoon on there as well, and you can always come and shout at me about the Spy Boys.

January 8th, 1963, Washington D.C.

 

Benjamin had awoken early in the morning when the sun hadn’t even made its appearance over the horizon. Even if it was nearing seven in the morning, the winter made sunlight a sort of commodity. He didn’t mind it so much, if only for that fact that he hated turning on the lights when he had to get out of bed.

 

He prepared his tea by boiling a pot of water on the stove, he’d hadn’t yet bought a kettle during his time in the States. He really should have, he thought, having lived there for a few months now. Despite the length of time he had been living in DC, it still felt like a foreign land. It was a not-quite home until he could go back to England.

 

There was a lot of things about his flat that would be considered peculiar to an outsider. Not much furniture, save for a couch a dining table and chairs, and his bed in the next room. It was rather scarce, but that wasn’t something he minded all too much. But then again, it was only temporary. After all, what point was there in buying furniture if he’d be leaving within a few months at the most.

 

He said that a year ago.

 

As the water came to a boil, he shut off the hob, carefully pouring the water over the loose tea leaves. It was important to Benjamin that he kept to a routine similar to the one he had when he lived in London. Get up at seven in the morning, listen to the radio, prepare his tea, shave, get dressed and be out the door by seven forty-five. Take the bus, get to work by eight fifteen. 

 

He feigned feeling the chill in the air. He had stopped feeling differences in temperature after he acquired his gift, but it still felt bizarre. How does one pretend to feel hot or cold? It was such a natural human reaction, after all, no one really thought about how it made them appear.

 

The CIA had him read up on magic spells and theory, but he was not very successful in doing much of anything. So, they let him continue his desk job until they could find someone to train him properly. A few months went by until he was transferred over to the IMF. And yet again he was just floating about his life, untethered and out of place. But Benjamin supposed that it was only natural after the way he left home.

 

He was far more careful here, then he was back home. He kept to himself, never questioned things, never really spoke up, and tried to be as polite as possible. After all the walls have ears and whatever one said could be used against them somehow.

He went by Benjamin now, as opposed to Benji. It was too formal for his liking, to dull, to serious. Benji was quick off the tongue, full of energy, and wit. His truer self.

 

Names in and of themselves were a funny thing. Who came up with them? How did humanity, as a collective, decide what name to give things. Be it a person, place, animal or ideological construct, humanity has always given a name to something. 

 

Benji thought this was just a byproduct of humanity’s attempt to organize and create meaning in an indifferent universe. After all, what could a name truly tell someone?

 

Names were merely titles, passed on and rarely ever chosen by its bearer.

 

Benjamin, his given name, didn’t reveal much about him. Save for the fact that his parents were probably the traditional religious sort and gave their son a name to match. His family name, Dunn, didn’t reveal much either except that their lineage most probably originated in Scotland.

 

He was once a journalist, dedicated to finding truth in places of unrest, in a time where it seemed peace was a simple dream from the time of long ago. Peace, in this era, was a pipe dream at best.

 

He didn’t understand why he felt so strongly about such things. Wars always happened, whether or not they were justified. Time marches on, and no matter what atrocities he was to write about, peace would never come.

 

Everyone seemed indifferent to the changes that were coming about in the new decade. Everyone in privilege anyway, and it disturbed him. But he couldn’t be so emotional, after all, a good journalist knows how to push their emotions aside and be objective.

He forced his emotions down his throat, choking on fear and disgust until it left a bitter taste in his mouth like wine that had soured. A wine that everyone drank of, giving them a gentle high. It helped them ignore what was really going on in the world. But even with it, Benji couldn’t stomach the images he saw.

 

Soldiers and civilians dying. Nations that pledge freedom and equality abroad and yet at home, people were condemned because they weren’t a part of the norm and queer in nature. Be it race, class or creed. There was hypocrisy to it all. But then again, his last lover was a politician, didn’t that make him a hypocrite?

 

 

Love couldn’t be helped. After all, Victor had a winning smile and a kind heart. He had wanted to do so much good, “for the people.” Victor said to him the first night they met. He was set to interview the man on his campaign for parliament. And somehow Benji had gotten swept up in his charms.

 

But Victor had a wife and children, he was in the public eye. It couldn’t last and they both knew it. But their separation would not come of their own volition. Someone had found out about their affair, most likely his wife, and leaked it to the press. Their affair became a highly sensationalized scandal. There were various discussions about violations of ethics, morality, and perversion. They were both dead men walking. Victor quietly dropped his campaign and relocated his family.

 

While Benji moved across the pond. Alone and afraid. Did those strangers on the bus know about him? Was his queer nature obvious to an outsider? Was he safe? He’d wager that most people weren’t so preoccupied with such matters and that he was over analyzing every interaction he had. Then again, with useless magic, he had no other defense.

 

Hopefully Ethan would be able to train him well. He wasn’t quite sure what to expect, after all, it was only his second day.

 

 

 

January 17th, 1963, Manhattan

 

The feeling of unease around Benjamin had gone away after a few days of working together. He was fairly quiet, kept to himself but was a friendly sort of fellow. Ethan still felt there was something off about his magic, rather, it seemed like a limited range of magic. Benjamin would make simple mistakes such as charms and enchantments being confused for the same thing. Asking about how certain spells were to be cast while in the field.

Perhaps he was nervous by the unfamiliarity of it all? Or perhaps Benjamin had simply wanted to be prepared for every eventuality? Had they not trained him for field work?

 

Ethan had wanted to ask Benjamin, but it never seemed to be the best time. He didn’t want to offend his new partner. After all, everyone had their own method. Ethan himself remembered how intense training was for him. Seeing how long he could stay awake at a given time, how long he could run, the strength of his forcefield. All of that took so much energy out of him.

 

Ethan noticed he was making a lot of excuses for a man he barely knew. It certainly wasn’t because of his rather adorable politeness, or his glasses, his smile. Certainly not, that would be improper behavior. No, the far more pathetic answer was that he was just lonely. Ethan didn’t want to go back to working alone. Well, also it was his smile, but that was its own issue. There was nothing he should have been too concerned about.

 

Ethan realized he should have asked Musgrave more questions.

 

The two of them had been sent to New York to see if they could tail a suspect. A shadowy figure who managed to evade capture. They had broken into classified sites, but the funny thing was, nothing had ever been taken. It was quite concerning to an agency where secrecy was top priority.

 

On the train ride from Washington Ethan had mentioned Benjamin’s title of familiar. His face shifted to one of discomfort. Something wasn’t right. But whatever it was Benjamin never brought It up. At eleven in the evening, they made their way to the pier and waited for their target. And they waited, and they waited. They waited for two hours, long past the time frame they were given.

 

They walked around the docks, pacing to keep warm. Ethan smoked a few feet away from Benjamin, while the other man stood out straight facing the water. What a fantastic waste of time. It occurred to Ethan that reliable intel wasn’t always a guarantee. It was just too much stock to put into the CIA. After all, it came from the same organization that spent millions attempting to assassinate Castro and failing each time. Their track record with intelligence was not always the best, to say the least.

 

They were silent, but it was not an uncomfortable one. Throughout the days they had worked with each other, Ethan learned that Benjamin was just naturally quieter. Ethan stared at him from behind, noticing his stance relaxing as he ran his hair through his hand and sighed.

 

“I’m not a familiar, you know.” Benjamin said in the dark, his back turned to Ethan.

 

Ethan grimaced, “I suspected as much.” He stood silent staring up at the night sky, the stars a beautiful distraction.

 

In truth, it was rather obvious to Ethan that Benjamin wasn’t a familiar. But when the alternative was working alone, he’d deal with what he had.

 

Ethan sighed, dropping what was left of his cigarette to the ground, grinding it with his leather shoes, putting out the embers. The cold winter air was amplified by the sea breeze. The lamps of the pier reflected on the water, bringing a dim glow to the docks. There was a hypnotic quality to the water as it moved rhythmically. But Ethan forced himself to focus on the matter at hand.

 

Their target never arrived, and Benjamin wasn’t really a familiar. Both were pieces of information Ethan would rather not have dealt with in the early hours of the morning.

 

“Let get back to the hotel, and we’ll sort this out in the morning.”

Ethan said, the weariness in his voice evident. 


	4. Similar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On a cold January day in Manhatten, Benji and Ethan discuss magic and the past, and the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a Hot minute, But here's chapter four fuckin finally.  
> Follow Me on Tumblr @Supergeekytoon

January 18th, 1963 

However chaotic the previous evening was, despite the lack of an actual target, it did not stop Ethan from sleeping rather heavily. He was simply tired in a way adulthood could explain. He decided they’d talk in the park, easier to avoid bugs and all sorts of things when you were out in public.

 

Ethan began with the question that had been burning in his head since they had met.

 

“How does an English war correspondent somehow end up working for the Central Intelligence Agency?”

 

Ethan’s voice was tinged with a tone of humor, but he wasn’t laughing. Not about something so serious. He wasn’t angry, no. He was frustrated. He had been told Benjamin had been trained, that he was a _proper_ familiar, not some trainee novice. He needed a familiar to guide him, to ground him back to reality. With Jack long gone, he no longer had that anchor.

 

‘We heard what you did with your last partner, here’s one that’s not even trained. You’ll die quicker that way.’

 

That’s what they must have been thinking when they assigned Benjamin to him. At least that’s how he imagined it; it was so visceral. He hated that the CIA was toying with him. That’s what this was right? Had Musgrave known? Was this a sick punishment?

 

No, it was just a game, like everything else he supposed. A simple war game, between world superpowers and their tools.

 

Ethan collected his thoughts to prevent him from spiraling any further. He needed to focus on the matter at hand: Benjamin, and his lack of magical knowledge.

 

They sat on a bench in Central Park in front of a duck pond. Frozen over, due to the drop in the temperature.

 

Benjamin didn’t seem fazed or anxious, he was stoic. But it felt unnatural, as though he was hiding his true emotions in a layer of neutrality. Benjamin’s hand went shuffling into the pocket of his overcoat. He glanced down at his old press pass. Clearly there were heavy memories that came with it.

 

Why was he showing him this again?

 

Benjamin hunched over his elbows pressing into his thighs as he sat on the bench.

 

“I wasn’t just a war correspondent, sir. I worked for the London Times on all matters of national and international affairs. But my life was put into danger.”

 

Benjamin’s voice was tinged with bitterness, exposing a past that it seemed he would rather have hidden away.

 

Ethan hummed in response. In the midst of this cold war, He did not question further as to whom he was threatened by. After all, he probably had made a number of enemies, especially if he had any sense of journalistic integrity.

 

His tone as well did much to dissuade any further prying Ethan would want to do, If Benjamin wasn’t willing to share it immediately, then he wouldn’t ask. At least not yet.

 

“Were you threatened?”

 

“On more than one occasion. It was no longer safe to be there, so I moved here to Washington.”

 

“And so, you found yourself in Washington, the heart of politics and yet unable to work for any reputable press agency for fear that you would be found by the people who threatened you. So, you decided to use your investigative skills to work for the government, despite the fact that your work as a journalist would have exposed you to certain nasty things about it. That about, right?”

 

“Well, in short, yes. Though I suppose you want to know about the, well you know.”

 

“The magic…”

 

There was another pause between them. Ethan shifted, his brain trying to piece together an explanation for Benji’s inability to use magic, despite brimming with all sorts of energy.

 

“You weren’t born with these powers I’m guessing, or if you were, you were never formally trained.”

 

It was easy for Ethan to fill in that part. Most magic users showed signs early on in childhood, it was not uncommon for magic to manifest at the onset of puberty. It would make sense if Benjamin had been a late bloomer and simply never learned to manifest his powers in a sophisticated manner. But something in his gut made him think otherwise.

-

“I’d like to explain but I’m afraid I’m not exactly sure how I got this…’ Benjamin gestured vaguely with his hands. ‘It’s a recent development. It started a few weeks after I came to work here.”

 

“And so, what changed?”

 

“I stopped feeling cold, I stopped requiring basic human needs like sleeping or eating. I still do it, but more out of habit than necessity. I know that I’m brimming with untapped energy, but in all my life, I’ve never felt so…”

 

“Active? Busy? Loud?”

 

Benji had sighed at that, seemingly relieved that someone else could articulate what he could not. “Everything is overwhelming in a way I don’t think I can explain, sir. It's like I’m a wind-up toy that can’t stop. I know that I’m less than ideal to have, I presume you wanted someone who was capable of helping you more effectively.”

 

Benjamin looked away from him. They were similar. They were both going through tough times, Benjamin, alone in a foreign country, with powers he couldn’t explain, working for a government he didn’t necessarily trust. Trying to move with his life in whatever way he could.

Ethan was alone, beginning to lose his grip to the world around him because his friend, his confidant, his lover was gone. And he was still alive, working for a government he certainly did not agree with when it came to certain ideas. Trying to move on with his life

 

And here they were, worrying about magic.

 

Ethan shook his head, smiling a bit. They were kindred spirits in a way, and Benjamin wasn’t the absolute worst option for a familiar.

“So, what happens now sir?” Benjamin asked, tired, with an anxious look in his eye.

 

“Well, if you’re still up for it. I’ll train you. You and I are similar I think.”

 

“How so, sir?”

 

“You and I are similar because our lives have been going through changes that are hard to adjust to.’ Ethan sighed, “I lost my last partner, and it’s been hard to get used to working without him. When I first got started working with the government, I was so overwhelmed and afraid. I had him to help me get through it. I know this is all very stressful, but I can help focus your energy. To become a good magician.”

 

“I would appreciate that, sir.” Benjamin smiled, it seemed genuine this time.

 

“I’ve been meaning to say, we’re partners Benjamin, no need to be so formal.”

“Well, if we’re throwing all formalities away, just call me Benji.”

 

“Very well Benji. I’ll just need to call Musgrave about last night, and we’ll be on our way back to Washington. Sound good to you?”

 

“Sounds good to me sir, Uh I mean, Ethan.”

 

They would need to get more used to each other, but it seemed they had finally found a friendship of sorts with each other.

 


	5. Government Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan teaches Benji his first magic trick. Meanwhile, Agent Brandt ponders his job and it's implications.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally had a chance to update since I'm on my winter break. I had hoped to have this out sooner but sometimes life gets in the way lol.  
> As always, I love feedback, your comments are always appreciated. Hope you enjoy this update!  
> Follow me on Tumblr: @supergeekytoon

_February 7th, 1963 CIA headquarters Langley_

 

In agreeing to work together, Ethan began what was effectively a crash course on the basic principles of magic. Hexes, curses, charms, enchantments anything and everything that was fundamental to his own understanding of magic. It was odd attempting to explain something that had long since become second nature.

Studying magic took effort and time. He spent time carefully crafting notes, trying to teach Benji what he didn’t know himself when he started to develop.

 

They had begun to unravel the odd history of Magic in their free time. Finding library books that were unmarked, hidden between the shelves. An old method for spreading their craft he was taught.

 

There were many rules to consider, much like studying any other field, it required memorization of theory and practice. But like anything else, there was a disconnect between learning theory and implementing said practice.

 

Theory: A magician must be grounded to their reality in order to influence it.

 

Practice: Teaching Benji hyper-awareness and observation.

 

Attempting to train a former reporter into a fully trained magician was going to take some time and effort. Benji wouldn’t automatically be able to practice any stealthy magic techniques or really learn effectively until he understood what it meant to be grounded to reality. Benji seemed capable to handle that however, despite his cheerful disposition it was clear to Ethan at least that Benji had also seen too much of the world.

 

What Benji had described to him back in New York, being overwhelmed and such, it reminded so much of himself. Before when he was growing up, he sensed too much. Felt too much, so he exercised frequently, and he became an active child. No one really understood his need to be constantly moving, until once he hit puberty. At that point, he had really manifested some sort of magical ability, but it was unreliable without formal instruction.

 

Then he and Jack were in the war, they were trained to use their Magic to keep them alert. It was his first taste of any sort of formal training. Learning to strike before the enemy strikes, learning to sense fear and danger from that dull feeling in his stomach, how to make it work in his favor.

 

It had since been a few weeks of instruction and it was time to take it up another level. And so, once they finished with all their other work for the day, Ethan brought Benji outside to the courtyard of their office building. putting a blindfold on him.

“Sir- I mean Ethan, what exactly are we doing?” Benji asked, his body tensing up.

 

Ethan stood beside him lighting up a cigarette in the cold. He instructed Benji to keep his eyes closed and to stand completely still. It was the first exercise Ethan was taught.

 

“Remember how you told me how overwhelmed you feel with your magic. This is to help you focus.” Ethan grimaced, picturing himself on the front lines overwhelmed with so many opposing forces: soldiers shouting, others wanting to kill him, his own desperate fear. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on the matter, pushing it aside to focus on Benji’s training.

 

“Alright, I suppose.” Benji’s skepticism was palpable in his voice, but he was obedient.

 

“Now, try to stay focused on how you feel, where you are, and who you are,” Ethan said, recalling and repeating the instructions he was given, word for word.

 

Benji exhaled, taking a deep breath in anticipation

 

“Focus on my voice. I’m going to ask you a few questions. Now, can you describe to me what it’s like outside?”

 

Benji was silent for a moment seemingly unsure of himself, then he spoke up

 

“It’s uh, a cold winter’s day. There are several people walking in and out of the building.”

“Good. Can you sense any imminent threats or any particular emotion?”

“I dunno it’s almost like a dull feeling in the pit of my stomach. It feels like someone is upset, or maybe a group of people are frustrated?”

He was clearly picking up on some negative emotions, articulating it however was going to take a bit of practice.

“Good, good. Focus in on that, can you sense in what direction it’s coming from?”

 

“It’s coming from behind us, towards the building.” He pointed behind him a bit more confidently than anything else he did today.

 

“Very good. You can take your blindfold off now.” Ethan smiled, it seemed to have gone well. At the very least it was better than the circumstances he first did this exercise.

 

Benji removed his blindfold and turned to face Ethan, seemingly relieved and calmer than usual. He glanced back in the direction of where he focused in on. He seemed perplexed. Looking back towards Ethan, he asked:

 

“What just happened? What did I do?”

 

Ethan still smiling replied, “Magic. You did magic. It’s an old exercise I was taught back in the war, in order to focus my energy better and not be overwhelmed with all the stimuli that having powers does to you.”

 

“So, this is supposed to help me focus during missions?”

 

“Yes, with practice you can do it almost automatically like second nature. It doesn’t take nearly as long. It’s how we’re able to avoid most fights.”

“ _Most fights._ That’s reassuring”

 

“Well, if you try to read an area that’s too big you can exert yourself. You won’t get a clear direction to focus your energy on.”

 

“Ah, yes, I think I understand.”

They made their way back to Ethan’s office, organized much more precisely for two people. There was a manila folder waiting on Ethan’s desk, most likely a new assignment for them, hopefully, something not overtly aggressive in nature, but he wouldn’t hold his breath. Maybe they’d be going somewhere warm. Benji may not be affected by the cold, but he sure as hell was.

* * *

_February 8th, 1963 Centralia, Pennsylvania_

No one notices when the government man comes to town. Well dressed in his suit and tie, smoking on the street corner or perhaps reading the local paper in the diner. For you see, that’s what they were trained to do. Slip in and out unnoticed like ghosts, passing between the worlds of the living and dead. If you were another intelligence man, they were easy to spot, but to the layman, they were simply another face in the crowd. William Brandt understood this well and used this to his advantage to get information of all kinds. Even if the CIA did not ask or want him to do so.

 

‘That’s where it began’ he thought to himself, stepping off the train and the morning sun bright in the sky. Rebellion is always where it began, he supposes. Inherent opposition to the status quo. Had the government been more open about its intentions instead of shrouded in secrecy, then he wouldn’t be on the quest to find out what they were. All he can make out is that it wasn’t any good. He was still beholden to those people in high positions of power unknown to the common American. For if he left, who would guard the guardsmen?

 

Which is why he found himself in a small mining town doing the government’s leg work, both metaphorically and physically. The town was covered in fresh snow, most likely from the night before and it so it seemed quieter than what was to be expected. There was then not much to observe for him. Though he was told in no uncertain terms that he needed to find a way to vacate the area plausibly. Something that would give the government grounds for an eminent domain that wouldn’t immediately look suspicious to outsiders.

 

A lot of the time his job consisted of some form of cover-up, William thought, bitterness tainting every step he took. They needed the land, he was told, but the specifics were left to his imagination. The town itself, Centralia, seemed quite normal. The snow beneath his feet crunched as he continued walking, searching for anything to bring back to DC. Anything that could empty this town, because even if he knew what they were doing wasn’t ideal, it was best not to play his hand yet.

They were onto him, that’s as much as he knew. They had found out someone had been breaking into CIA black sites, not stealing anything, but the fact that someone had entered them without authorization was enough to worry the CIA. He wasn’t looking for documents, he was looking for people. Soldiers with no next of kin. Orphaned children, homeless people. People who wouldn’t be missed. The same people he was tasked with identifying some time ago when he was younger and fresh-faced.

William took pride in his work back then, helping to identify troubled areas so that some sort of aid could be provided. Identify and document the homeless population, the rate of delinquency, rate of poverty, etc. Eventually, however, he noticed as he returned to those places no major changes would be made. But people would go missing. Towns thought to be too far off the map to be noticed were suddenly gone. Something odd was going on, as he returned to those places from time to time, he noticed that no changes would be enacted. They weren’t identifying issues to be fixed, they were taking inventory.

What confirmed this notion was when he had heard the words “human experimentation” in a low hushed tone while passing in the halls. He didn’t understand why, however. Why would the government be experimenting on its own citizens? His level of clearance meant he couldn’t go asking those sorts of questions. He found out by chance after all, and by the tone of voice, it wasn’t something to go discussing in the open.

 

His training meant he could search for the answers out on his own, hence why he began breaking into black sites searching for evidence. He broke in one night to a site in Dallas, finding a woman in a cell all alone. She couldn’t tell him much; she had been starved for days on end and injected with god knows what. She didn’t make much sense and she died shortly after he found her, but she was the final proof he needed. Now he had to find a way to stop it while keeping his cover in check.

 

He couldn’t find much out of the ordinary, save for the fact that he overheard a couple discussing the plans for the yearly junkyard burning. Given that this was a mining town, one wrong move and the entire town could go up in smoke. He made his way back to the train station, in and out with the sun just as expected. He was grim with the realization of what he had to report back. What lengths would the government go to? What would he be able to prevent, if anything? He was trapped in this job and he could only hope that someone would find out what was happening. At least that way he wouldn’t have to do this alone.

 

Yes, no one notices when the government man comes to town, but William Brandt wished someone would.


End file.
